


Double Crossed Messenger

by Lusciousinpain



Series: Hot Spies In Love [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: AU, Angst, Double Crossing, Dubious Consent, Espionage, M/M, Misunderstandings, Porn With Plot, secret agents, spys
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-19
Updated: 2017-11-19
Packaged: 2019-01-31 17:53:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,147
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12687246
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lusciousinpain/pseuds/Lusciousinpain
Summary: This series is inspired by Golden Earring's, 'Twilight Zone'. The song has nothing to do with the TV show, and everything to do with kick-ass spy thrillers. Plus it's catchy, fast pace, and sexy as hell - just like our heroes, hard to resist!





	1. Double Cross Messenger

**Author's Note:**

> This series is inspired by Golden Earring's, 'Twilight Zone'. The song has nothing to do with the TV show, and everything to do with kick-ass spy thrillers. Plus it's catchy, fast pace, and sexy as hell - just like our heroes, hard to resist!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> But how was Dean to know the hot guy at the diner was a Milton?

_It's two am._

Why does it always have to be a warehouse? Why can't it be a spa? Or even better yet, a suite at the Venetian? Why do criminals always have to do their dirty work in filthy warehouses? 

It's a question Dean finds himself asking, more and more often, lately.

"Hey!" His captor shouts, slapping him so hard his head rocks back. "I asked you a question." 

Dean spits out blood, smirks, wise-cracks, "Sorry Meg, kinda hard to focus on what you're asking me when tall, dark, and dreamy, over there," he nods towards the corner, winks at a man cloaked in shadows, "keeps undressing me with those big baby-blues."

The man steps away from the wall, inches closer to Dean, but stops several feet short. At least now Dean can see his face, the man's expression is unreadable, but Dean knows he's angry; he's got to be, Dean and Sam are the whole reason the guy's family has been torn apart. 

"Hey Cas," Dean calls to him, blowing him a kiss, a wink, playing the part of the casual and unaffected, but heartbroken on the inside; Dean really did want to get to know this latest 'hook-up', better, "how about one more 'roll in the hay'? Huh? Let me return the favor? Whadda ya say-"

The next blow isn't unexpected, but the wrath behind it, is. 

Dean grunts from the impact, gets the wind knocked out of him. "Aww, come on Cas," he wheezes, blinking the stars from his eyes, "didn't I show you a good time last night? Thought we had something special?" 

The following strike knocks Dean on his back, chair and all. 

Dean laughs, pulls at his restraints, and feels that they have slackened. The chair has also splintered, and if he wiggles his body just so, he could probably get his arm free. He just needs a little bit more time, and a whole lotta luck, and he'll be out of there before his brother finds out; Sam will bitch at him nonstop, for letting himself to get kidnapped by their mortal enemy. 

But how was Dean to know the hot guy at the diner was a Milton? 

Yes, a Milton, as in Castiel Milton, or as he's better known in the syndicate, Michael and Lucifer's beloved baby brother, and number one assassin. 

"I knew you were sweet on me." Dean goads, he can't shut up. "Or was all that stuff you said when we were..." He laughs, low and dirty, "...well, you know, foolin around, a load of bull?" He's pissed too, Castiel was more than just a casual fuck, Dean actually felt...well, something for him. But, whatever, obviously Castiel was in it for the revenge. So, fuck him. 

Castiel clenches his fist, lifts his arm to deliver the next blow, when his partner surges forward and grabs his wrist. "Stop!" Meg shouts, stepping between him and their fallen victim. "We need him alive, dummy." She makes a 'd'uh' face, "Remember? Without him, we can't get your brothers free." 

Castiel resists for a beat, but then nods and drops his hand. 

"Go take a break." She tells him, pointing towards the exit. "Let me see if I can coax the information we need from him." She snorts, crosses her arms, "You're obviously...compromised." 

Castiel glowers menacingly at her, but she just yawns, unimpressed, but it's all an act; Meg can't let on that she's the one helping Dean and his brother bring down the Milton family's empire, they'd wipe her off the face if the earth, if they did. 

"I'll only be a minute." He warns her, taking one last look at Dean, holding his gaze for a heartbeat, then turning on his heel and storming out.

She's by Dean's side the second the door closes, they don't have much time. She drops to her knees, starts undoing the knots around his wrists, and hisses, "Look, Sam's outside, okay." She's nervous, hands trembling. "He's going to take out that idiot," she looks over her shoulder, and shudders, Dean knows she's being flippant, that she's scared of being caught, but even more terrified of what Castiel will do to her if he finds out about her duplicity. "Just wait for his signal, and-"

A single gunshot cuts her off, she stills, swallows, and waits. 

Dean's heart drops; it's a pity Cas had to die, Dean is going to miss him. 

A tortuous minute later, Sam bursts in, gun in hand. He scans the area, zeros in on Dean, and points the gun at his captor.

"About time." Meg grits, getting up and meeting Sam half way. 

"Hey...Meg, right?"

She nods, "Yeah, that's me. What about Cassie?"

"Castiel?"

"D'uh, yes, Castiel Milton. Did you kill him?"

"No, he..." Sam drops his eyes, "he got away."

Meg mutters a curse, shakes her head, curses again. "Fine, whatever. Now forget we ever met and make this look good."

Sam tilts his head, confused, "What?"

Meg throws her arms up, "Your escape, dummy. Make it look like I put up a good fight." 

Sam shakes his head, "You can come with us." He doesn't want to do what she's asking. "We'll keep you safe. We'll protect-"

She barks a laugh, then punches him on the jaw, a mean right hook that topples Sam. Meg straddles him, grabs him roughly by the shirt collar and sing-songs, "You're going to protect me?" She snorts, "Sweetcheeks, you can't even protect yourself-"

"But I can." Dean snarls, grabbing Meg by the shoulders and flinging her across the room. 

Meg hits the wall and crumbles. "Fuck!" She curses, flipping Dean off, but staying put. 

"What the hell, Dean!" Sam frowns at his brother, gingerly fingers his bruised jaw, and holds out his hand. 

Dean steps over Sam, asks, "Satisfied?" And hauls him to his feet. "Toldya she didn't want our protection." He looks over his shoulder, makes sure she hasn't moved, and turns back to his brother. "And," he points out, wagging his finger, "obviously she's capable of taking care of her self. So-" 

"That's not what I was talking about!" Sam snaps, dusting himself off and shoving past his brother to get to Meg. 

"What the hell did I do?" Dean asks, daring to act the offended victim. 

Sam just glares, turns his back on Dean and ignores him. He squats in front of Meg but doesn't touch her. "Meg," he starts, eyes wide and earnest, "Look, we know this is dangerous-"

"And that's why you have to make this look good." She insists, jabbing a perfectly manicured finger in his face. "Listen, doofus, I'm not going to prison, or getting killed by the Miltons, just because your dumb-ass brother can't keep his dick in his pants." 

Sam throws Dean another killer bitch-face, all pinched and scrunched, then turns back to Meg. "Yeah, okay..." He sighs. "What do you want from me?"

Meg rolls her eyes, "Rough me up, idiot." But then she smirks, grabs him by the neck and pulls him in for a kiss, "And make it look convincing."

Sam gapes, nods, stands back up, "Ah...okay." He says, then looks to Dean for help, but Dean is nowhere in sight. "Dean!" He shouts, sprinting for the door. He throws it open, hisses, "Dean!" And tries to spot him, but it's pitch back outside. 

"What?" Dean hisses back, coming in from the dark. 

"What the hell were you doing?"

Dean shrugs, "Looking for that sonofabitch, see if he's still around-"

"You were looking for Castiel." Sam accuses, walking back inside. But when he hears the door close, he rounds on Dean. "Look," he says, lips barely moving, "let's just get this over with, okay. Castiel is probably already on his way back. And with help." Sam runs his hand through his long hair, exhales, "Most likely, with Gabriel.

And that gets Dean moving. Lucifer and Michael are formidable foes, but Gabriel is unpredictable, vengeful, and a real lunatic. 

They race to the backdoor exit, but stop in their tracks when Meg calls them back. "Forget something?" 

Dean and Sam exchange a look, shrug, do 'hands-paper-scissors', and when Dean loses, he walks back towards Meg, and asks, "Where do you want it?" 

"On the jaw, dummy! Honestly, I've never seen such an incompetent-"

Dean cuts her off with a punch. "That convincing enough for you?" He smirks, shaking his hand out (hurts) then following Sam out the back door. 

...

"Sonofobitch!" Dean hisses, and Sam goes for his gun. 

"What is it?" Sam asks, sweeping the dark with his eyes, "You see something?"

Dean curses again, grabs Sam by the shoulder and spins him around. "We have to go back to the bar."

"What for-" 

"We have to get baby."

Sam groans and holsters his gun, he knows there's no getting out of this; Dean might not love his car as much as he loves his brother, but it's a close second. "Fine, just, hurry, okay." 

Dean grins, slaps Sam on the back, and hops into Sam's stolen car.

They peel out of the parking lot a few seconds later, both lost in their own thoughts, each man troubled, brooding, and so bogged down with their own inner demons, that neither notices when a large, white, Cadillac pulls out right behind them, and follows them all the way to their final destination.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The plot thickens!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoy it!

It's five am:

After picking up the Impala (and making sure that her glossy black skin was still pristine) Dean and Sam abandoned the stolen car, and headed back to their motel room. Niether spoke a word. 

Well, almost.

"Seriously..." Sam huffs, exasperated, "I'm just...speechless."

Dean grits his teeth, sneers, "Right on cue." And Sam sputters, crosses his massive arms across his broad chest, and pouts. 

"Well, go ahead, then." Dean tells him, just as pissed-off as his simmering brother. "Say it. Get it off your chest."

But Sam just purses his lips, breathes loudly through his nose, turns his body towards the passenger door, and mutters, "Why bother."

Dean exhales, mutters back something unintelligible, and argues, "I didn't know, okay?" But when Sam scoots further away, he floors the gas pedal (the car suddenly feels too confined) and makes it back to their motel in record time. 

...

Dean collapses on his bed as soon as they get to their room. Sam grabs two bottles of beer from the mini fridge, puts one in Dean's open hand, and takes a seat. 

The silence stretches uncomfortably, and they're both getting to the bottom of their bottles, when Dean finally speaks up.

"I fucked up. M'sorry." 

Sam snorts, "Yeah, you did." But he knows why his brother is so reckless. Dean is lonely. "Look," he sighs, trying to be understanding, despite the dire circumstances, "I know you...you know, like to have company. But when we're on a job, you need to be extra careful."

Dean rolls onto his side and gets on his elbow, "Jesus Sam, you think I don't know that?"

Sam's eyebrows shoot up. "Dean," he says, voice pitching high, "if you do, then you coulda fooled me." 

Dean drops his eyes, falls back on the bed, and exhales, all the fight knocked out if him. Sam is right, he could have gotten them both killed, and all because of a hot piece of ass. 

But damn, what a gorgeous piece of ass. 

Sam grabs two more beers, hands one to his brother, and they clink necks. "The next time," he starts, offering an olive branch, "just...ask the guy's name, first."

Dean huffs a bitter laugh, nods, "I'll do that." But doesn't add that there won't be a next time. Or at least, not one for a long while. There can't be, not with thoughts of Castiel and 'what-ifs' invading Dean's every waking moment. 

Dean closes his eyes, he really does need to get a grip. But it won't be easy, he's never felt this drawn to anyone, ever. And it's been like that for him ever since their very first meeting back at the diner. If anything, his attraction to Castiel has gotten stronger since then, escalating to an even greater degree after the fiasco at the bar. 

Sam drains his beer, stands and stretches, his over long frame making the ceilings appear lower. "I'm gonna take a long hot shower." He announces, walking over to his duffle and fishing for his toiletries. 

Dean "Ah-hems." But doesn't look up, he turns the T.V. on, instead, and kicks off his shoes.

... 

Dean channel surfs for a bit, but he feels restless; he can still taste Castiel on his tongue. So when he hears the shower start, he undoes his zipper, palms his hardening length through the denim, and moans, licking his lips and imagining it's Castiel's hand that's touching him. "Cas..." He exhales, missing him already. 

But Castiel is not there, nor will he ever be. "Damn it..." Dean hisses, he should have killed the sonofabitch the moment he found out he was a Milton. But Dean didn't. Instead, he hesitated, fell for Castiel's lies, for his looks, and because of that, ended up tied to a damn chair in that damn warehouse. Dean snorts, serves him right.

But he can't stop thinking about him.

"What the fuck is wrong with me?" He mutters, growing harder despite the painful memories. He exhales a heavy breath; he just needs to get Castiel out of his system, to jerk-off and clean out the pipes, so to speak, and then move on.

Yeah, that's what he'll do.

So he nudges his underwear lower, and his dick springs free. It's rigid and heavy and damp at the head. Dean bites back and moan when the cool air hits it, but then he gives it a slow stroke, and moans again; he knows there's no way he's going to last until Sam comes out of the bathroom.

He needs to take care of his boner, now. But he doesn't want to jerk-off to depressing thoughts - pretty though they are - so just for this once, he'll use the memories of his and Castiel's first meeting, to finish himself off. 

...

The Morning Before:

Dean went to a nearby diner to grab breakfast for himself and his brother, just a breakfast sandwich and some coffee, in and out fast, no lingering. But the second he spotted the blue-eyed hottie sitting by himself in a booth, Dean changed his mind and decided to grab a seat, instead.

"Must be my lucky day." He muttered to himself, feeling lucky, or was it horny? Either way, Dean was going to at least exchange numbers with Mr. Blue-eyed hottie.

Dean craned his neck, cleared his throat, did everything but wave his arms in the air to get the stranger's attention, but when he finally did, the air charged and the small hairs on the back of his neck prickled; it was electric. Dean gulped, licked his lips, then remembered himself and threw the stranger a smile, the one that promised they'd have a good time.

The other man tipped his head, offered his own smile in return - a barely there curl of his plush lips - and Dean nearly burst into flames. 

Hearts pounding, they held each others gaze while all around them time ceased, stretched, warped, so when the gorgeous stranger paid for his check and headed towards the men's room, Dean automatically followed. 

...

Dean was slammed hard against the door's wooden surface the moment he walked into the small room. "I'm Dean-" he gasped, winded, but grinning from ear to ear. "What's your-"

But instead of answering, the stranger cut Dean off with his mouth, and unzipped his pants. 

Dean groaned into the kiss, rutted against the other man's impressive erection, but knew that if they kept going at that pace, he was going to cum in his pants pretty quickly. "Wha-what's you name?" He asked again, wanting to know who's name he'd be shouting when he climaxed. 

"It's Cas." Mr. Gorgeous growled, nipping at Dean's ear, then pulling out his own cock before falling to his knees.

Dean gasped, he knew where this was going. "Nice to meetcha." He panted, raking his fingers through Cas' hair, then grabbing a fistful. 

Cas smirked up at Dean, he liked it rough. "Likewise." He purred, then opened wide and took Dean's dick into his mouth.

Dean cried out, threw his head back against the door, but felt no pain. "Christ-" he croaked, voice gritty, throat dry, praising Cas' skills. "Baby...fuck, you, your mouth..."

Cas moaned, nodded (yeah, he knew how to suck dick) then exhaled, and took Dean deeper, groaning around Dean's length while Dean pumped his hips in and out at a brutal pace. 

"Fuck-" Dean gasped, then warned, "m'gonna...cum-"

But instead of pulling off, Cas sucked harder, stripped his own cock faster, and shot his load at Dean's feet. 

Fuck...that's hot..." Dean murmured and spilled, eyes glued to Cas' sinful mouth while the other man swallowed. 

...

It's almost sunlight: 

Dean replays every delicious moment from their first sexual encounter, and he's going to cum. But he doesn't want to. Not like this. Not just yet. He wants to make it good, wants to get the full effect, or as much as he can without actually having a living partner with him.

And he's got plenty of time too; he knows it's still a good long while before Sam exists the bathroom. So he fishes underneath his pillow for his vibrator, but it's not there. 

"Where the hell..." He grits, feeling blindly for it through the gap between his pillow and the headboard. But still, nothing. He wrenches his neck, twists for a better angle, but before he can investigate further, Dean gets the wind knocked out of him.

"Looking for this?" Castiel grins, holding up the vibrator while pinning Dean down with his body. 

Dean bucks, curses, tries to knock the other man off, but Castiel holds on and begs Dean to stop, to please listen to what he has to say. But Dean won't, and they wrestle, throw punches - arms and legs tangling - and then Castiel straddles Dean's lap, grabs him by the waist, and sees the tip of his dick peeking over the elastic edge of his underwear. "Thinking about me?" He smirks, all smug cockiness, but a well aimed blow to the chin, knocks him off the bed.

"Don't flatter yourself, sweetheart." Dean scrambles to get on his feet, but Castiel quickly rights himself, and he's back on top of Dean, in a flash.

Dean struggles, tries to shake him off, but it's impossible, Castiel easily overpowers him and Dean stills. 

"Dean," Castiel pants, eyes heated, pinning Dean's arms over his head, "I also want-"

But Dean is done listening, he heard everything he needed to know about Castiel back at the warehouse. "Don't care!" He fires back, but again, he's silenced by Castiel's mouth. 

Dean fights back, it's half-hearted, but he has to at least try to resist how good it feels, how turned on he's getting, but mostly, deny that he's missed Castiel, at all. "No!" He insists, kissing Castiel back. 

"Please..." Castiel rasps, licking Dean's saliva from his lips, reaching between them to wrap his fingers around Dean's dick, "I meant what I said at the bar."

"Really," Dean challenges, breath coming out in short gasps, "which part?" He asks, chasing Castiel's lips. "Was it the stuff you said before we fucked? Or the shit you spewed after you knocked me out cold?"

"I, I-" Castiel stammers, in a frenzy, swearing apologies into Dean's mouth while stroking him to full hardness. "I meant what I said." He repeats, peeling off his own pants, then quickly climbing back on top of Dean's lap. "You have to believe me." He begs, coating Dean's dick with spittle, then sinking slowly onto his rigid length. 

"Fuck!" Dean cries out, not caring one iota that his brother is only a shout away. "Jesus-" he gasps, grabbing Castiel by the hips (there's no way he's letting him go until this is done) and thrusting, quick successive bursts that Castiel rides and grinds into.

Castiel throws his head back, mouth open in a silent cry, he's going to combust. "Dean..." He moans, swiveling his hips, erotic figure eights that steal the breath from Dean's lungs. 

Dean replies by digging his fingers into the solid muscle of Castiel's ass, by fucking his hole hard and fast, and all too quickly he's ready to cum. "Baby," he warns, pace growing erratic, "I'm gonna cum."

"Do it!" Castiel pleads, eager for Dean to fill him. "Want it-" he chokes, bouncing erotically on Dean's lap and fisting himself at a furious pace. He cries out when he cums, "Dean!" 

"Fuck-" Dean grunts and cums, eyes scrunched, toes curled, spilling harder and faster than he ever has.

...

A breath, two breaths, and Castiel leans forward for a kiss. "I'm...well, that was..." he smiles, "that was nice."

Dean grins back, but then he hears the shower turn off, pulls Castiel in for another kiss (wet and filthy, one neither will ever forget) and sneers, "Yeah, it was. But I also meant what I said earlier." And punches Castiel in the jaw, knocking him unconscious. 

...

A second later, Sam rushes out of the bathroom. "Dean!" He calls out, one hand holding the towel around his hips, and the other toting his gun. "Are you okay?" He asks, stopping short when he sees Dean kneeling beside a half-naked man crumpled on the floor. "Ah, is that-" 

"Yeah, it is." Dean immediately answers back, brusque, all business, like his dick isn't hanging out and the unconscious man at his feet, isn't half naked. 

"What the hell?" Sam cries, nose crinkling in disgust. He scans the rest of the room, sees that nothing is out of order (well, maybe Dean's bed is messier than usual, but no biggie) and asks, "How did he find us?" He takes a closer look at the man on the floor, and yells, "And where the hell are his pants?" 

Dean doesn't reply, he just covers Castiel's lap with a blanket and stands.

Sam purses his lips, shudders, he's beyond grossed out. "Dean," he hedges, trying to get to the bottom of this, but at the same time, not really sure he wants to know the answer, "what's that smell?" He sniffs the room, then grimaces, eyes bugging out, "Oh my God! Did you guys have sex?"

Dean glares at his brother, but doesn't deny it. Instead, he tucks himself away, shoves past Sam, and goes straight to the bathroom.

"Seriously Dean?" Sam throws his arms up, hollers after his brother, "I wasn't even in the bathroom that long!" 

...

Dean comes out of the bathroom a few minutes later, ignores Castiel, and throws Sam his clothes. "Get dressed." He orders. "We're leaving. Now."

Sam nods, he knows they need to leave immediately, that the rest of Castiel's crazy family is most likely on their way, and it won't be sex they're after.

He dresses quickly, throws all if his supplies is his bag, then gives their prisoner one last look. "What about him?" Sam asks.

Dean either doesn't hear, or simply ignores Sam. Either way, he grabs his bag, his leather jacket, checks for his wallet, and heads for the door.

"Dean?" 

"What?"

"Do we, you know, leave him alive?" 

Dean looks at his brother, at the man at his feet, licks his lips, and exhales, "I don't care." He answers, tone grim, one foot already out the door when he adds, "Do what you gotta do."

Sam frowns, he's not sure what to make of that. But since Castiel's fate is apparently up to him, then _this_ Milton, at least, gets to live. "Okay then." He mutters to himself, taking the edge of Castiel's blanket and pulling it up to his chest. 

He glances over his shoulder and catches Dean looking at Castiel (resigned, regretful, pained) and tsks, wondering for the third time since this all started, just how deeply Dean's feelings run for this most infamous of assassins. 

"Dean," Sam starts, intent on confronting his brother over this whole mess, "if there's something-" 

The slam of the door cuts him off. 

"Damn it." Sam shakes his head, tsks again, he's got a sinking feeling this isn't over. 

...

Even with the door closed, Castiel can still identify the distinctive sound of the Impala's rumble. He lays where the brothers left him a few seconds longer, heart weighing heavier the further away Dean drives, then shoots to his feet when the door bursts open.

"Come on," hollers Gabriel, bouncing on the balls of his feet, "they're getting away!" He spots his brother, does a comical double-take, and starts laughing. 

Castiel ignores Gabriel, grabs his pants, and goes to the bathroom. 

This isn't over.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know how it's going to end. And I'll add installments periodically. Hope you enjoyed this first part enough, to stick around...


End file.
